


it always gets late with you

by unrequitedexistence



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Carol - Freeform, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7277776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrequitedexistence/pseuds/unrequitedexistence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes all you need is to watch the film play out in front of you to realize that you are actually one of the main characters.</p><p>Cat and Kara read <i>Carol</i> & meet halfway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it always gets late with you

**Author's Note:**

> Heat wave alert. I feel like I have been awake for centuries because I haven’t been able to sleep. It has been hard to even find the strength to write, but this one wrote itself. One could perhaps say that it escalates rather quickly, but with this heat, what was once inevitable just happens. No excuses.

Patience was something that Cat Grant found herself lacking when it came to inane conversations where the weather turned out to be the most interesting topic of discussion, the _highpoint_ , the _climax_ of the social interaction. Alas, these seemed to be the kind of _exchanges_ she most commonly got dragged into. Perhaps the word _exchange_ is a bit of an overstatement in this context. There was no give-and-take involved. Instead, it was more of a _take this_ -and- _give me that_ scenario. Marketing skills involved? Nonexistent.

 _No_ , _thank you_.

Her bohemian definition of intelligent conversation, where the fear of the unknown was pondered, where truths were deconstructed, discussed and refuted, where reality found in fiction its perfect skin, had given birth to a considerate guardian of its formula in the person with whom she shared the household. Carter Grant, her son, was in so many ways her one and only source of hope. Or at least he _had_ been the one and only. The weight no longer stood on his shoulders alone.

 _Kara Danvers_.

Kara had walked into Cat’s life claiming to be as far from extraordinary as humanly possible. She had worn average as if it was _her_ color, but Cat had noticed just how faintly it seemed to clash with her skin. The young woman that had caught her attention, that had made her raise her eyes from whatever it was she had been working on, even if just for a moment, had seemed eager to _blend in_.

The keenness had spoken loudly and clearly, and Cat had listened attentively. Kara could be, perhaps even _craved_ being, molded. Kara, as opposed to ninety nine dot nine percent of her current team, could _become_ something else, could become _greatness_.

A good challenge mixed with possibility had always been Cat’s favorite cocktail and somehow it had found its way into her office. How was she supposed to say no to its addictive flavor?

The moment Cat had been waiting for, ever since Kara’s peculiar, yet rather endearing, entrance, arrived about two years later. Kara had confirmed, even if mostly unconsciously, that Cat had made the right choice when she had first hired her. Now the time had come for Kara to prove to none other than herself that she could do whatever she wanted to. That had been why Cat had chosen to give her an office with no window. She was very much aware of the effect that an offered view had on people, and the last thing she wanted was Kara to _settle down_. This was just the beginning and Kara had to learn to trust herself, to _believe_ in herself, and paint her desired landscape with whatever colors she found more appropriate.

 _Hope_.

Now that Kara would be editing for her, _with_ her, they would have to establish a new choreography. They had long ago defined their rhythm, the beat to which they danced, rarely colliding unless the moment required just _that_ , a frontal crash from which lessons would arise, be acquired and archived for future reference. They had connected at a higher level, particularly when Kara had employed the confidence offered to her by her suit. All they had to do now was _adapt_ , and Cat had a good feeling about it.

Perhaps the four tangible and bare walls would at last have Kara acknowledge that she was the one to wear the suit, not the other way around. Once, not _if_ , she recognized that truth, their relationship would certainly change, would undoubtedly _expand_.

 _Until then, though_ …

Cat Grand could be currently found staring at the collection of shelves that decorated an entire wall of a second living room that Carter had renamed _Narnia_. Glasses halfway down her nose, hands perched on either side of her waist.

It was Friday night and Cat was craving the company of a good old friend as her son had been taken away for the weekend by his father. Her ex-husband had, for the first time in what had been a delightful eternity, decided to actually show up. It was incredible how he seemed to sense just when she _needed_ the company and immediately knock at her door without calling first. Even though her son didn’t seem at all convinced by his father’s rather sudden and _explosive_ demonstrations of affection, she knew that it was good for them to spend some time together.

She sighed deeply as her eyes travelled the spines displayed in front of her. The old friend she had intended on revisiting was nowhere to be found. She gave herself a millisecond to consider the ridiculous theory that the world was out to get her before looking at the clock that decorated the wall by the door. Her favorite bookstore would be closing soon but if she left right away she was sure she would be able to buy herself a new copy and have a word with Teresa, the owner and friend that she hadn’t seen in quite a few weeks.

She was already halfway out the door when she caught sight of her reflection in one of the mirrors that stood in the hall. As soon as she had gotten home she had changed into a pair of comfortable light blue jeans and a fashionably oversized beige cashmere sweater that _felt_ like a warm embrace. She looked tastefully… _comfortable_. She rolled her eyes at herself before taking the last assertive steps needed to reach the door. The bookstore would probably be empty by now and Teresa certainly didn’t care whether she showed up wearing a dress worthy of a red carpet or a pair of denim shorts and a faded t-shirt from a band long gone.

Her predictions had been correct. There seemed to be two or three people browsing the tall wooden shelves, but they were people on a mission, too focused on their own little explorative digs to care about anything else.

“Traitor.” Cat whispered, causing Teresa to jump and almost drop the Kindle she had been holding rather distractively.

“Guilty as charged.” The other woman said with a smile as she carefully set the device down by the register. “Remember ‘ _After Mrs Hamilton_ ’?” She asked, swallowing the loud laugh that had threatened to abandon her mouth at the sight of Cat’s enthusiastic and enthralled nod. “This is her most recent novel. It came out three days ago, but _only_ on digital format.”

“Why would she do that?” Cat’s level of frustration was rising exponentially. Perhaps the world was truly out to get her. She mentally slapped herself at the thought.

“Fear of paper cuts?” Teresa offered, knowing that a ‘ _Twilight_ ’ joke would be certain to earn her an eye roll followed by a tension-releasing grin. “It’s time to convert, _sister_.”

“ _Never_.” Cat joked, allowing the easiness of the exchange and the combined scent of old and new print to soothe her.

“Vampires and Kindles aside, how I can help you today?”

“Actually, I know _exactly_ what I need.” Cat replied, her tone assertive and yet laced with longing for the book she had somehow misplaced at home. “I will be back in a moment.”

Teresa shook her head in amusement as she watched the way Cat determinedly marched towards the half-hidden LGBTQA+ corner that stood proudly and yet offered the discretion that some of the members of the community cherished.

“ _Oh God_. I am _so_ sorry.” The words were thrown softly and concernedly in Cat’s direction as she regained her composure and balance after having another body bump unexpectedly into hers. “I was distracted and…” A hand instinctively found its way to Cat’s arm in an attempt of offering steadiness, the touch causing her to immediately search for the identity of whoever had caused the little accident.

“Thank you, _Kara_.” Cat said once her eyes confirmed the suspicion her ears had alerted her of at the sound of what had seemed like an extraordinarily familiar voice.

“ _Miss Grant_!” Kara exclaimed in shock, gently squeezing the other woman’s arm in recognition instead of pulling away as if she were touching burning fire. “You look…” Kara reflexively licked her lips as she took in the woman now standing in front of her. What exactly was the word she was looking for? _Beautiful_ , perhaps? It felt too minute, though. There was an aura surrounding Cat that seemed to exhale… _home_. It was inviting, endearing and extremely… _distracting_. “Huh, I mean. You know, it’s so _nice_ to see you!”

“Distracted seems to be a bit of an understatement, wouldn’t you say?” Cat asked, her face remaining undaunted even if her eyes were clearly laughing.

“I am sorry. I _truly_ am.” Kara started again, a blush climbing her neck and quickly spreading to her cheeks. “It’s Eliza’s birthday tomorrow, my adoptive mother? And I somehow _forgot_.” The self-disappointment was obvious in her voice and in the way her free hand became a fist by her side. “I _never_ forget.” She looked down for a moment, taking a deep breath before exhaling her anger and refocusing on Cat’s now visibly intrigued face.

“And then you decided to come to a bookstore and search the LGBTQA+ section for a last minute gift?” Cat raised an eyebrow curiously.

“What? Oh no. This is for me.” Kara instantly rolled her eyes at her poor, even if honest, choice of words. “I mean, I was just curious and so I decided to… you know, see what was available.” Kara awkwardly tried to explain as she gestured towards the presented books with the hand that had a minute ago been a tight fist.

“I see.” Cat offered as a reaction, taking a step closer to the younger woman while also making her very aware of the fact that her hand was still resting on her arm. She then leaned even closer, her eyes never abandoning Kara’s as she reached behind her. Cat gave herself a minute to enjoy the proximity, watching Kara anxiously gulping before pulling away, a book now in her hand. “Mary Oliver.”

“Excuse me?” Kara’s voice sounded as disconcerted and confused as her body had reacted once Cat had retreated from her personal space by taking a step back.

“ _Poetry_. For your adoptive mother.” Cat responded casually. “You can never go wrong with Mary Oliver.”

“Oh, _I see_. Thank you, Miss Grant.” Kara’s voice tone was formally cordial, but her eyes were tenderly grateful. “Do you happen to have a favorite?”

“ _Mmmh_.” Cat gave it some serious thought, knowing that the current offer would be of at least an exemplar of each as Teresa considered Mary Oliver to be indispensable to life. “Perhaps ‘ _Dream Work_ ’?” She was about to turn to leave at Kara’s recognition nod when a sudden thought stopped her. “Oh, and if you remain curious, you should certainly purchase a copy of ‘ _Tipping the Velvet_ ’ by Sarah Waters. It’s… an _experience_.”

“Huh, right. I see. I will look for it. I mean, _them_. I will look for _them_. Thank you again, Miss Grant. You have saved my life.” The honesty of Kara’s last statement had caught her by surprise.

“ _Cat_.” Cat retorted with a smile. “Miss Grant seems awfully wordy and impersonal for a savior, don’t you think?”

“Thank you, _Cat_.” Kara offered after nodding in agreement, a smile of her own tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Goodnight, _Kara_.” Cat said, studying the younger woman for a minute before turning around to leave. “Send your adoptive mother my best.” She added as she disappeared from Kara’s sight.

“What did just happen?” Kara murmured, seemingly frozen in place.

She could still feel the ghost of Cat’s warmness on the palm of her hand. Oh, and the softness of her sweater that Kara could only guess, but somehow found herself being sure, matched the feeling of the skin underneath it. She had never seen her boss looking so elegantly carefree before. It was an astonishing sight that had tugged at her heart. That was the effortlessness that Kara craved for her own life, an achievable peacefulness that had to do with self-acceptance more than anything else.

“I am sorry to bother you, but I am afraid I will be closing soon.”

She was brought back from her little reverie by the bookstore owner. Her voice had been soft, a gentle nudge that was meant to wake her without frightening her out of her skin.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” She then offered.

“I think so, actually. Could you please help me find a copy of ‘ _Dream Work_ ’ by Mary Oliver?” She couldn’t help but notice how the other woman’s eyes lightened up at the mention of Cat’s recommendation. “And…” She started, trying to find the right words so that she wouldn’t come across as some sort of psycho stalker. “The blonde woman that just left, she was carrying a copy of…”

“‘ _Carol_ ’ by Patricia Highsmith. It’s right behind you.”

“ _Right_.” Kara said as she turned around and quickly grabbed a copy. “I guess that will be all, thank you.”

They fell into an easy conversation as Teresa affectionately wrapped the copy of Mary Oliver’s ‘ _Dream Work_ ’ as if it were a treasure. Kara smiled, officially convinced that her uncharacteristic forgetfulness had been _meant to be_. As she left the store, after having promised Teresa she would return for some tea and further reading recommendations, she felt as if she had just been through one of those moments that was bound to sooner or later change a life.

In this particular case, _sooner_ rather than later.

The smile that always came hand in hand with the ending of ‘ _Carol_ ’ had just started to take shape in Cat’s lips when she first heard the knock. Her eyes went from the back cover of the book she had just finished reading to the clock that counted the minutes going by in the Grant’s private _Narnia_.

It was three in the morning and someone was knocking at her door. She raised an eyebrow suspiciously once her mind reminded her that if something had happened to Carter someone would have called or would at least be ringing the bell to make sure she heard it.

She stood up, putting her now empty glass of wine over the coffee table before making her way to the door, her book pressed to her chest as if it were a life vest against any possible violent intrusion. She felt her heart skip a beat as she found herself staring at a baffled Kara Danvers while looking through the peephole.

“ _Please_ tell me there’s more.”

A pajama-clad Kara stood in front of her, her hair, unexpectedly down and stunningly chaotic, framing a glowing face that seemed to have gone through an unprecedented emotional storm. Cat’s eyes amusingly acknowledged the unicorns decorating Kara’s pajama pants before recognizing the cover of the book that the younger woman also held against her chest.

“Oh, you have _no idea_.” Cat replied before opening the door completely so that Kara could walk in. She had expected the younger woman to give the invitation a moment of thought, but her reaction had been prompt and beyond assertive. _What have I started_ , Cat found herself wondering as she closed the door behind her.

She had suggested ‘ _Tipping the Velvet_ ’ because of the distance created by the way the story was told. Sarah Waters’ writing was stunning to the point of having the reader doubt its very existence. It was somehow easier to keep fiction from blending with reality that way. As for Patricia Highsmith… her writing was like a drug. Instead of opening a window for a story happening outside of your space, she presented you the window as a mirror where you could see your own reflection. And that… that was _dangerous_ beyond belief.

 “I turned off the light, _Cat_.” Kara started, waiting for Cat to lock the door and lead her further into the house. “I honestly thought that I could put it down for the night.” She groaned loudly, bringing her free hand to cover her eyes. “All I could see was Therese and Carol, though, gazing at each other with such intensity that for a moment they had me convinced that spontaneous combustion _was_ a thing and was happening to _me_.”

Cat was leaning back against the now locked door, frozen in place as she studied how Kara’s body lightly, if not almost unperceptively, illustrated the voiced outburst.

“It was written in the fifties, Cat, can you believe it?” Kara continued with her hand still in place, as if the darkness allowed her adaptation of the book to palpably play in front of her very eyes. “Two women, completely different ages and socials backgrounds, randomly running into each other and falling in love.”

 _It could be us_ , they completed in unison in the privacy of their minds.

“I _need_ a drink.” Cat said, her mouth so evidently dry that her voice came out sounding huskier than ever. “Can I get you anything?” She offered as reality broke the spell, slapping her across the face as it blended with the so called fictional story that was _oh so not their own_. She started her walk towards Narnia with one thought in her head: _but it so could be_. “I was having wine but I think the moment calls for something with a sturdier physique, something like… _bourbon_.”

“And the most beautiful thing is…” Kara restarted, not recognizing Cat’s offer of a drink because her mind was still holding her hostage, trying to have her make the dangerously delightful connections that would have Patricia Highsmith smiling in heaven, hell or somewhere in between the pages of her brilliant work. “They are written as these two contrasting and beyond flawed beings that fall hopelessly, if not obsessively, in love, without even noticing at first. They are not women, they are not perfect, they simply… _are_.” Her voice dropped a tone at the last word, following as nothing more than a whisper. “How extraordinary is that? It’s virtually impossible to ignore the parallels...”

At the word parallel Cat froze, turning around and causing Kara to blindly collide into her front for the second time that day.

“What parallels?”

For the first time since she had started reading the book, Kara felt suddenly very awake and extremely aware of her surroundings. She had been moving in a sort of daze that had delivered her to Cat’s door and that had somehow gotten her inside the house of a woman that she now had absolutely no doubt was the Carol to her Therese. It was all there: the intense yet not uncomfortable gazing, the mutual and silent understanding, the synchronicity… and the _touching_. How could they have missed it?

Truth be told, it was easier to ignore it, to write it down as instant complicity instead of developing intimacy. They might have started by doing some line-dancing, but they had at some point moved into a tango that Patricia Highsmith had made impossible to carry on ignoring. The chemistry was there and was now so intensely obvious that if they kept looking the other way they were certainly going to prove spontaneous combustion to be a reality.

“I meant…”

This was _it_. This was the _sooner_ arriving rather than the _later_. Kara had to reach out now or else the moment would permanently move into the realm of the soul consuming and heartbreaking _what if_ s.

“Yes, please do enlighten me as to what exactly you meant by parallels.”

If Kara had had any doubts about the possibility of being alone on this seemingly Titanic-looking ship, she witnessed them being washed away by the unconcealed yet graceful exhilaration in Cat’s voice.

All Kara had to do was _one_ thing. The iceberg would then be avoided, saving every soul on board.

“You are, without shadow of a doubt, the Carol to my Therese.”

Afraid the full stop would grow into suspension-opening points, Kara sealed her verdict by pressing her lips against Cat’s. Kara could swear she had felt the peak of the iceberg cutting the skin of her cheek before being suddenly replaced by the warmth of Cat’s soothing hand.

Not only had they avoided the iceberg, they had altogether melted it as promises of futures were tattooed under tongues that whispered vows of eternity to one another.

“ _What a strange girl you are_.” Cat quoted against Kara’s lips, their foreheads meeting as their mouths parted ways. “ _My angel flung out of space_.”


End file.
